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The next chapter starts a bit slowly, with the boys entering Mr. Tiny's van (haaah) and arguing about seating arrangements. It takes an entire half a page to drop into self-indulgence on the author's part, which tells you he's grown really conscientious lately.


"You're quite the boy, by all accounts," Mr. Tiny went on. "A most remarkable young man. Sacrificed
everything to save a friend. There aren't many who would do as much. People are so self-centered these
days. It's good to see the world can still produce heroes."

"I'm no hero," I said, blushing at the compliment.

"Of course you are," he insisted. "What is a hero but a person who lays everything on the line for the
good of somebody else?"

I smiled proudly. I couldn't understand why Evra was so afraid of this nice, strange man. There was
nothing terrible about Mr. Tiny. I kind of liked him.


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* Not-so-subtly making Messianic parallels!
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The FBI will stage a manhunt for you in three days or less, or we'll double your money back! Order in the next ten minutes and we'll include a box of kittens, just in case! Operators are standing by!


"Larten tells me you're reluctant to drink human blood," Mr. Tiny continued. "I don't blame you. Nasty,
repulsive stuff. Can't stand it. Apart from young children, of course. Their blood is scrump-dilly-icious."

I frowned. "You can't drink blood from them," I said. "They're too small. If you took blood from a
young child, you'd kill it."

His eyes widened and so did his smile.

"So?" he asked softly.


okay seriously now this is just getting silly. How could this conversation have possibly gone? "Mr. Harper-Collins Executive, there's a line in here that suggests a Wonka-esque child-killer along the lines of Albert Fish. Should we nip this in the bud before he starts waxing rhapsodicpoetic about how chewy pre-pubescent testicles are? ...sir? ...are you listening at all? I know it's Thai Hooker Tuesday, but you could at least grunt or something."

This little remark makes Darren instictively know that Tiny is evil, "not just bad or nasty but pure demonic evil", and he's a man he "could imagine killing thousands of people just to hear them scream", which isn't nearly as poetic as Kefka's rendition on the same subject. It's also a bit less extreme than the poisoning of an entire town, women and children included, that accompanied Kefka's mention of scream-loving, which makes you kind of wonder why we didn't get to see Tiny doing something like that before being told he was that evil. It's almost like the story is trying to force us to feel a particular way about a character by telling us explicitly what to feel, but it's not like they'd do that...or have done it before...repeatedly...

Things get back to normal (as normal as it gets, anyway) as Tiny reveals that he wants "two fine young men" to look after the new batch of Tonberries because he can't stick around. The two reluctantly agree to find food for them, with Tiny adding that "Young Evra Von knows what my darlings like, I'm sure" and making me check my Pedobear joke calendar in vain. They're given permission to leave the van--RUN BOYS, RUN LIKE THE WIND--but Darren shows how ~BRAVE~ he is by...GASPY! Asking a QUESTION! This is srs business, guys, Crepsley and Mr. Tall's jaws dropped and everything. Srs business.

He asks why Tiny calls them "Little People". Tiny responds that, uh, they're little, hurpadurp? Seriously, kid, everyone in the troupe is named after their schtick, why does THIS one confuse you? Oh well, maybe he'll finally end up admitting they're Tonberries.


"But don't they have another name? An official name? If somebody mentioned
'Little People' to me, I'd think they were talking about elves or leprechauns."

Mr. Tiny smiled. "They are elves and leprechauns," he said. "All around the world, you will find legends
and stories of small, magical people. Legends have to start somewhere. These legends started with my
short, loyal friends."

"Are you telling me those dwarfs in blue capes are elves?" I asked disbelievingly.

"No," he said. "Elves don't exist. Those dwarfs — as you so rudely put it — were seen, long ago, by
ignorant people, who invented names for them: elves or fairies or sprites. They made up stories about
what they were and what they could do."


Darren: MR. TINY MR. TINY
Crepsley: ugh God not this again
Tiny: dude what is his damage
Crepsley: he is like five I swear
Darren: MEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSTEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRR TIIIIIIIIIIINYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY--
Tiny: WHAT OKAY WHAT.
Darren: WHAT ARE THE LITTLE PEOPLE FO' REALLY??
Tiny: ELVES OKAY ELVES
Darren: OHHHHH LAWL OKAY
Tiny: so can we eat him yet? can we make him into a stew?
Crepsley: you always want to make stew. I want a quiche.

Darren continues to pester him, asking what Little People can do, and Tiny (rightfully) brushes him off, saying curiosity killed the cat.


"I'm not a cat," I said boldly.

Mr. Tiny leaned forward, and his face darkened. "If you ask more questions," he hissed, "you might find
yourself turned into one. Nothing in life is forever, not even the human form."


OH SWEET MOTHER OF GONTERMAN NO YOU DON'T. NO...YOU...DON'T. I WILL PUT UP WITH ALL THE OTHER CREEPY FETISHES, BUT I WILL NOT HAVE THIS TURN INTO A FURRY FIC ON MY WATCH. THIS THREAD IS HARLEY-FREE AND WILL REMAIN SO, GOT IT? GOOD.

Anyway, the adults let the kids go, with Crepsley telling Darren that there will be no "lessons" (presumably of the blowjob variety) tonight. Tiny adds an ominous comment along the lines of "If you don't feed the Little People early, THEY WILL EAT YOUR FACE", which is less threatening if you've ever owned a cat. Outside, Evra tells Darren that he must be crazy to talk to Tiny, and Darren agrees. Look, guys, did it ever occur to you that all he wants is love? He wants to join in on the annual taffy pull and the weekly game nights and the Secret Santa with everyone else, but nobody will let him because he's misunderstood! And...hang on, I think I have a children's book coming on here...yes! I'll call it "The Loneliest Pedobear"! I'll make a mint!

Oh, and Tiny has a heart-shaped watch that he won't stop fondling and it glows and OMG SPESHUL shit like that, which I didn't mention because it was pathetic. But that night...


When I finally fell asleep I dreamed of Mr. Tiny and his heart-shaped
watch. Only, in my dreams, it wasn't a watch. It was a real human heart. Mine . And when he squeezed it…
Agony.


I think I saw that episode of Naruto. Alternately, if this turns into a "Harry's scar" thing, I am going to make like a Little Person--er, Tonberry--and start stabbing the shit out of things.

The next chapter mostly details Evra and Darren catching wild animals to feed the Tonberries. Thrills! Darren finds a fox with a chicken in its mouth on the way home from a fable and snaps its neck, then chaws on it for a bit while continuing to angst about whether or not he should drink human blood. He then finds a family of rabbits "washing their ears in a nearby pond", apparently refugees from a Beatrice Potter story because no rabbit has done that in the history of ever. Their twee little waistcoats are their undoing, as Darren snaps up three of the smallest ones--remember, dickishness towards bunnies is an important character trait for our beloved protagonist--before deciding to call it a day.


I met Evra back at camp. He'd found a dead dog and a badger and was feeling pretty pleased with
himself. "The easiest day of hunting I've ever had," he said. "Plus I found a field full of cows. We'll go
there tonight and steal one. That'll keep the Little People going for a day or two at least."

"Won't the farmer who owns them notice?" I asked.

"There are at least a hundred of them," Evra said. "By the time he gets around to counting them, we'll be
long gone."

"But cows cost money," I said. "I don't mind killing wild animals, but stealing from a farmer is different."

"We'll leave money for him," Evra said with a sigh.

"Where will we get it?" I asked.

Evra smiled. "The one thing we're never short of at the Cirque Du Freak is money," he assured me.


I've tried to hold off the emoticons for this snark, but...but...*facepalm* This is just so STUPID. If money isn't an issue, why not buy the cow? Hell, why not just buy meat? If they're un-picky enough to nosh on roadkill, then clearly they wouldn't have a problem with a sack of scraps from a butcher's shop, which DEFINITELY wouldn't cost as much as an ENTIRE, LIVING COW. More importantly, WHY ARE WE EVEN BOTHERING WITH THIS. THERE'S NO POINT. IT'S BORING. IT'S USELESS. IT'S PURE, UNADULTERATED FILLER. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

*cough* Sorry...sorry, I needed a moment there. Let's move on.

Uninteresting filler section over with, the boys return to camp to find Sam waiting in the bushes. For no reason other than the author wanting to show off his feeble worldbuilding skills, he's in a "questioning mood".


"Don't you ever wear shoes?" he asked Evra.

"No," Evra said. "The soles of my feet are extra tough."

"What happens if you step on a thorn or a nail?" Sam asked.

Evra smiled, sat down, and gave Sam his foot. "Try scratching it with a sharp twig," he said.

Sam broke off a branch and poked Evra's sole. It was like trying to make a hole in tough leather.

"A sharp piece of glass might slice me," Evra said, "but that doesn't happen very often, and my skin's getting tougher every year."

"I wish I had skin like that," Sam said enviously.


...at least, I hope that's the only reason. If they start tickling each other, I am out of here.

Sam says that he's still planning on joining the freakshow, and Evra and Darren share an old-married-couple look over the chances of that happening. Then Sam leads them to an old, deserted railroad station...hey Sam, your first name isn't "Son of", is it?


"It's great," he said. "They used to work on trains there, repair and paint them and stuff like that. It was a
busy station when it was open. Then a new station opened closer to the city and this place went
bankrupt. It's a great place to play. There are rusty old railroad tracks, empty sheds, a guardhouse, and a
couple of ancient train cars."

"Is it safe?" Evra asked.

"My mother says it isn't," Sam told us. "It's one of the few places she tells me to stay away from. She
says I could fall through the roof of one of the cars or trip on a rail or something. But I've been there lots
of times and nothing's ever happened."


Clearly, someone never saw Apaches in school. Oh well, at least they can have Evra walk around first to pick up all the rusty nails and broken glass.

Suddenly, the boys notice a "heavy, sour smell" coming closer...and closer...and closer...and...


"Gotcha!" a voice yelled behind me, and before I could move I felt a firm hand grab my shoulder and
spin me around. I saw a large, hairy face, and then suddenly I was falling backward, thrown off-balance
by the force of the hand.


Darren: IT'S CHRIS-CHAN! RUN AWAY, RUN AWAY!
Chris: Wait! Stop! I just want to be loved! By a boyfriend-free girl! That's a virgin!
Author: Hey, thanks for ghostwriting for me, brah.
R. L. Stine: I like your money :D


Next time: Pot references, big fuzzy bear-men, and jokes about personal hygiene--and that's not even the snark...